


Cigarette Ahegao

by DumbassWhoWritesAt3AM



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: "Fundy's teen angst bullshit ft. side characters", 2020 L'Manberg Election on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Abuse, Abusive Relationships, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Arson, Beta Read, Chew/Spit, Depression, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Eating Disorders, Fire, Floris | Fundy-centric, Fundy didn't have any time for teen angst during the war, Fundy needs a hug, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Trans Fundy, Listen to her music, Manberg-Pogtopia War on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Pre-Manberg-Pogtopia War on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Self Confidence Issues, Song fic, Song is "Cigarette Ahegao" by Penelope Scott, Substance Abuse, The doc for this is titled, They/Them Pronouns for Eret (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur is trying to be a good dad, a lot of time passes, depressive episodes, eventually, everyone needs a hug tbh, it's one line, or something like that, so does Tubbo, so it all comes out when his dad leaves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-14 00:47:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29038089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DumbassWhoWritesAt3AM/pseuds/DumbassWhoWritesAt3AM
Summary: Everyone knows what happened to Wilbur and Tommy. They got kicked out. But what about those they left behind?Fundy (and other characters listed) cope with being under Schlatt's rule.Title is from song by Penelope Scott (it's not as perverted as it seems)
Relationships: (It's not a healthy relationship), Alexis | Quackity & Floris | Fundy, Eret & Floris | Fundy, Eret & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Floris | Fundy & Jschlatt, Floris | Fundy & Niki | Nihachu, Floris | Fundy & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Fundy & Everyone, Implied Alexis | Quackity/Jschlatt
Comments: 3
Kudos: 98





	Cigarette Ahegao

**Author's Note:**

> S//O TO RIN FOR BETA READING!! LOVE YA GURL!!
> 
> CW for depressive episodes, alcohol abuse, general substance abuse (cigarettes and coffee), disordered eating, some self deprecating thoughts, abusive relationships, and language.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

“As an American-” _Fuck!_

Schlatt stood proud at the podium, triumphant in his election-fraud victory. Against all odds, he has _won_ . Fundy didn’t think that Coconut2020 would win, but _this?_ It wasn’t possible. 

He looked at his father, who’s eyes were filled with fear. Wilbur wasn’t the only worried one. No one except the man on the podium knew what would happen next. 

“-I know how democracies work. It might seem unfair, to the common mind, but I’m sure you’ll agree. I got the popular vote. I am your rightfully elected leader.” He adjusted his tie. “Well. This was easier than I expected.” 

“As my first order, as PRESIDENT of L’manburg-”

_So like, I guess they call it the ‘sophomore slump’_

“Fundy? You alright?” Tubbo gently opened the door. 

The flash of light made the fox stir. “Leave me alone, I’m sleeping.” The curtains were drawn, to seem like he was actually planning to nap. As much as he wanted to, his body couldn’t fall asleep. 

“Come on, you can’t stay in your house forever.”

“And why not?”

The lights switched on, making Fundy wince. “Because Schlatt’s throwing an ‘inauguration’ party, whatever that means.”

“Why would I go to that bastard’s party?”

Tubbo laughed. “It’s mandatory for all remaining citizens.”

_Always crying, and always drunk_

After putting on his suit, which he had peeled off right after coming home, Fundy met Tubbo outside. The boy seemed to take the election as well as Fundy did. His eyes were red and puffy. The fox didn’t mention it. 

The celebration was held at Eret’s castle, most likely because of it’s banquet hall. 

“Where did he make so much food on such a short notice?”

“That was Niki!” Fundy replied. “After we… _dropped out_ of the election, she had a lot of free time. She volunteered to cook for whichever party won.”

“I don’t think she expected Schlatt to win.” Tubbo gestured at the lamb chops, laid out next to some fish. 

A glance around the room showed her to be talking to the new president. He was laid out on Eret’s throne, lazily holding a bottle of something. Niki stood at attention, hands behind her back. 

_A few dead, more gone, the rest well on their way_

“Guys? What took you so long?” Eret walked towards them. “Half the people here are already tipsy.” They paused. “Well, I’m sure Schlatt was to begin with… hey, have you tried the smoked salmon? It’s sent from the heavens, I’ll tell you.” They started making a plate for Fundy, with a little bit of everything on it. 

“No, wait, I don’t eat seafood.”

“Oh.” Eret looked around, and made a beeline for Quackity, bringing the plate with them. 

Fundy wasn’t 100% that his mother was a fish, but he didn’t want to take any chances. Wilbur had been so insistent on it that neither of them ate seafood anymore. He’d never met Sally, having died in childbirth, but he’d always had Wilbur, who wasn’t a terrible father. Sure, he had been absent at times, but they were in the middle of a war, It was understandable. But now…

“The hell is this?” Schlatt yelled. He was still on the throne, now dangling a lambchop from his fingers. 

“I made you a plate to eat, I-” 

Quackity was interrupted. “Wow! Thanks! I hate it!”

_So everyone that I love is stuck because this, that, the other, and the state fucked up_

Alright, a toast!” The horned man said. “To me!”

The party was winding down. Those who hadn’t left already were tired, fully, and most were somewhat drunk. 

“Now, I know voter fraud isn’t the best method of winning an election. But Goddamnit, we pulled it off PERFECTLY!”

There was hooting and hollering from Quackity. Everyone else was quiet. 

Fundy sat, legs straight and back against the wall, while Tubbo sat next to him, crossed legged and staring at the floor. Eret was next to Schlatt, eager to get their throne back. 

“I wish all those who voted for me a good night-” queue Quackity’s cheers “- and those who voted against me a very fuck off!” Laughing at his own joke and flipping off the ceiling, he leapt off the throne. Stumbling, he made his way to the door, his vice president in tow. 

_What an exit,_ thought Fundy. 

_We covered it in a class that I'm about to fail_

“Fundy? Hey, Furball!”

“Huh?”

It was the next day, and him, Eret, Tubbo and Quackity were having a meeting in Schlatt’s office. 

“ _Huh?_ Don’t give me that. This is important. I want those walls down _today_ , Furball.” Schlatt passed something down the table. It was a lighter. “And I want the flag destroyed by tomorrow, as well. You better get it done, or I’ll make sure you see your father very soon.” He laughed out the last part. 

Both sentences made his blood run cold. It seemed there was no way out of it. 

“Alright, Tubbo next. Do you know what “campaigning” is?” 

_Well I feel better now, Cigarette Ahegao_

Fundy wasn’t as distraight as he’d thought he’d be. Sure, it was heartbreaking to tear down the wall, but it wasn’t _his_. He had just been born inside them, born into this whole mess. The walls were Wilbur’s, Tommy’s, Tubbo’s. Speaking of the latter, he looked close to tears since Tommy and Wilbur’s exile. Compared to him, Fundy was taking this surprisingly well. 

As for the flag, he decided burning it at night would give a much needed effect. 

Heat rose from the charred flag. Fundy imagined his father, watching him burn what he had fought his whole life for, to watch Cain kill Abel. The satisfaction didn’t worry him. 

_This is what I think of your country._

“Fundy?”

He turned. Behind him was Eret. “Are you doing alright?”

“Oh, yeah. Just sad to have to burn this,” he lied. “I’m sure _you_ aren't.”

They ignored the jab. “Hey, it’s tough. I know. I’m sorry about the exile, but Schlatt can’t be reasoned with.”

 _Maybe it’s for the best,_ Funny thought. “It’s fine. I can deal.” _When did they start to care?_

“Just… take care of yourself, okay? I know how you got sometimes during the revolution.”

“Like wh- Oh, that. I’ll be fine, _please_.” Failing to be funny, he said "I haven’t had another episode, except last night, which was touch and go"

_No need to cry about it_

“Hey, Eret!” 

They turned. Tubbo was flagging them down, a tinge of hurry in his voice. “Hey, what’s going on?”

The boy's eyes shifted around the grass. “It’s Fundy. I haven’t seen him in days. Have you?”

The ruler’s eyes widened. “Oh, uh no, I haven’t. That’s not good, do you think-”

“I don’t know anything for sure, but yeah, it sure seems like he’s having an _episode._ ” The word was stressed with awkwardness. “It’s been a while, he hasn’t been like this since…” He trailed off. 

“Since I betrayed you, yeah,” they finished. 

“Listen, I know it’s none of my business, but I want him around for tomorrow. Emotional support.” He finally looked Eret in the eyes. They were surprised to find an empty, pained look coming from the boy. 

“It’s been rough?”

“Oh you have no idea. Schlatt’s been working me like a dog, and I was up half the night-” he hesitated “-practicing my speech.”

A yell came from behind them. “My ears are burning!”

The president and his VP had shown up. “What’s the haps?”

“Oh, nothing,” Eret said. “It’s just that we haven’t seen Fundy in a bit.”

“God, that stupid fox. Oh, _your old man got exiled_ , big deal, get over it. You know what he needs?” answering his own question, Schlatt continued. “He needs to get laid. Nothing a good one night stand won’t fix.”

 _What kind of…_ Quackity spoke up. “There’s not too many options. We have, like, Niki in the kingdom, and I don’t think-”

“No women doesn't stops me. Right _Quacky_?”

“Sh- stop! Don’t say that!” Quackity stammered. 

“Alright then, _Quacky_. Nah, Fundy just needs to get his head cleared. He doesn’t know what’s good for him.”

“Probably an incel.” Quackity said, still recovering from Schlatt’s nickname. 

In a fake happy voice, Shclatt continued. “Hey, incels! Just have sex!”

“Duh!”

_Trash on the walls and trash on the floor_

There was a knock at the fox’s door. Usually he would have ignored any sound, wait for it to go away, or let it fade into the background. 

But this sound was different. It _moved_ around the room. The knock went to the window closest to the door. The curtains were drawn, so it’s origin was unknown. It moved again, directly over Fundy’s bed (with him in it). 

He mushed toe pillow over his ears, mumbling “go away.”

The knocking moved another window over, where it stopped, used its hands to pry it open, and climbed in the room. 

“Fundy, what the hell?” Eret said. 

Rolling over in his bed, he repeated “Go away.”

“I will not.” They said back. “No ones even _seen_ you for a week.”

“I’m sick.”

“Well, you’re not wrong.” They opened the curtains, letting light into the trashed room. Fundy pulled the blanket over his head. 

_Liquid eyeliner stuck to the door_

“Oh my god. Get out of bed, now.”

No reply. 

“Come on. It’s the festival today. You need to be there.”

“Who needs me there?” No one needed him. Hell, apparently he’d been here all _week_ , and no one had even called. Well, it wasn’t like Fundy was checking his phone. He’d been letting it ring out. _Just some stupid telemarketers._

“Tubbo wants you there, for one. Poor kid’s freaked out.” Eret sat on the bed. Food wrappers crinkled under them. _At least he’s been eating._ “We all want you there. And I’ve been worried.”

Fundy grunted. 

“Come on, get your suit on. After this is over, I’m coming back here and helping you clean up. We’ll talk through it.”

“I don’t need help.” With that, he pushed off the covers, revealing boxers and scars on his chest.

“Oh! Sorry, sorry.” They said, averting their eyes. 

“It’s fine.” Fundy said stretching. “Can you wait outside? I’ll be out in 10.”

“If you’re not, I’m coming back in there.”

_Screwing everything up, doing everything wrong_

The festival was a disaster, to say the least. Tubbo had done his speech on the election podium, like Schlatt did. Only, he wasn’t as passionate about it. His monotone voice wasn’t followed by exaggerated hand gestures. Tubbo looked _tired,_ plain and simple. No wonder he didn’t notice the cage coming up slowly behind him, being shoved in it at the last moment. Schlatt replaced the boy onstage, and preached about how the boy had been a traitorous slacker, and deserved to be executed. They had hired a pig, who Fundy had only ever heard rumors of to do it.

The shot of a firework knocked everyone off stage, and Fundy was running as he saw Tommy teleport to stab the pig. There was no sign of Wilbur. 

He did meet up with Eret to clean up his place afterwards, but the conversation was crippled. Neither could believe what had happened. Fundy wasn’t sure about his friend, but he knew there was no standing for someone so quick to pull the trigger on one of their best employees. He found an empty journal in the trash heap that was his room. On the inside cover, he wrote “A Spy’s Diary.” 

_In my defense I wasn't supposed to be around this long_

“What’s _this_ supposed to be?”

Fundy averted his eyes. 

“Who do you think you _are?_ Carting around this “Spy Book”? I thought you were one of the good ones, Furball.”

Fundy snached his journal back. “It’s none of your business.”

“What, you want me to throw you out along with your dad?”

He swung at Fundy, who dodged. Quackity and Tubbo grabbed at them, holding them back. 

“Get out of my sight. I don’t wanna look at you or your diary.”

Walking out of the room, Schlatt was followed by Tubbo. 

“I’m sorry, man.” Quackity said. “He isn’t usually like this.”

The lie hung in midair. “Whatever, I’m leaving.” Grabbing his cap that had fallen after the botched fight, Fundy walked out the door. 

He had walked halfway home when he heard his name. 

“Fundy!” Tubbo was running up to him, out of breath. 

“I… is it true? Are you not on Schlatt’s side.”

“He thinks everyone’s against him.” He hesitated. “But… no I’m not.”

“Oh, thank god. Me neither, I thought…” Tubbo’s hands waved. “No, but I was gonna ask you something else.”

_Well I feel better now, Cigarette Ahegao_

He sat in his messy room, letting matches burn down. The room wasn't as bad as when Eret had come, but it was getting worse. The matches littered the floor. He liked watching them burn, and counting how many had suffered. He craved the same feeling he had when he burned the flag. And again, when one of the Pogtopians destroyed it. He was less mad that his flag had been burned than he was about someone else doing it. He kind of wanted to burn the latest flag, but it had been built to be indestructible. Silly him.

_No need to cry about it_

He didn’t know what he wanted. Well, that wasn’t true. He wanted approval. He could have gotten it from Schlatt. So why did siding with him feel so wrong? 

After the 8th match, he made up his mind. 

“Take me to Pogtopia,” he said to Tubbo the next day.

He nodded. “Alright. We can go on Saturday.” Tubbo’s nose wrinkled. “Man, you smell like a campfire. You haven't been smoking, have you?”

“Oh, I don’t smoke. I just like how it smells”. 

_Get thin on smoke and coffee, get fat on pie and biscuits_

The workload for all of them had been severe. Fundy had been working hard on purpose to get on Schlatt’s good side, and same with Quackity. Meanwhile, Tubbo had involuntarily become Schlatt’s right hand man. Because of this, Tubbo had become a ‘Medical Grad Student’ level caffeine addict. He’d also shown up to work one day smelling like cigarettes. Fundy wouldn’t have judged, except for the fact that Tubbo was still growing up. He needed some reassurance. So, with Niki’s help, they had made a muffin basket for him, a gift for all his hard work. 

“Enjoy!” Fundy said as he presented it. 

”Wow, that’s… a lot! Thank you!” Tubbo took the basket with a stiff arm “What kind are they?”

“It’s a mix of chocolate chip and berries. Not together, of course.”

“Oh!” Tubbo picked one up, and inspected it. He took a shallow bite. 

“Wow, these are good!” he said, mouth full. “Here, you take some, I can’t possibly eat all of them.” 

Handing three muffins to the fox, he turned. “Thank you!” he said, voice still muffled, as he went into his office. 

Shutting the door, he spit out the chewed muffin into his hand. 

_Gross,_ he thought. 

He walked over to the trashcan and threw the remains of the muffin into it. He set down the basket, with the half eaten muffin still in his hand. He took another bite, chewed, and then spit it out, directly into the trashcan this time. 

_This is disgusting. You’re being disgusting._

He repeated the cycle, bite, chew, spit, until the muffin was gone. He walked to the bathroom to wash out his mouth. He didn’t want to taste the sweet failure from the muffin in it. He ran into Fundy there, although he tried passing it off as being thirsty. 

_God, don’t act like such a rude prick, or they’ll know something’s wrong with you,_ his mind scorned. 

_God bless this perfect shitstorm, I hope that it takes me with it_

“So you can’t come?”

“They won’t let me in”

Fundy had been talking to Eret about his trip. He wanted them to come along. 

“That’s completely unfair! It’s been forever since…”

“It really hasn’t,” they replied. “And I respect their decision.”

Eret regretted their own betrayal. Motivated by greed, of power they wouldn’t have obtained in l’manburg, they’d sold out the team to Dream. They now realized you couldn’t be a ruler without a court. 

“Schlatt’s an idiot. I hate him.” Fundy changed the subject. “I don’t think anyone will stand with him when this is over.”

 _Will there be anything left to stand on?_ Eret thought. Dream, the one who’d brought him into this self-imposed isolation, had told him some _plans_ for when this affair came to a boiling point. 

_Maybe it’ll be for the best. Let him blow this place to smithereens. Let me blow up with it._

“When is the revolution happening?” They asked. 

“We’ll storm the place on November 16th. Be sure to stay out the way. Most of them won’t like you.”

_If only I could be part of it. Maybe they’ll end my reign._

_Maybe they'll let me join._

“Can’t wait to see that bastard get what’s coming to him.”

_I have a soft small body, strawberries make it happy_

The kitchen was filled with all sorts of ingredients. Flour, sugar, a plethora of spies, and anything in between. Niki wasn't cooking alone this time, either - Fundy, her co-running-mate, was there too. 

“Pass the strawberries.”

She handed them over. They were making tarts. 

Baking was always fun. It filled noses with sweet smells, it had instructions that you could mess up without too much trouble, and it was a nice creative outlet. Best of all, it made people happy. Who didn’t love pastries?

“I don’t think Tubbo liked the muffins we made,” said Fundy. 

“That’s ridiculous. Why would he not like them?” _Stupid kid, how does he know what’s good and what’s not? He doesn’t, that prick._

“Not sure. He made a point of ‘eating’ it in front of me. I think he spit it out, though.” He didn’t mention seeing Tubbo wash his mouth out after. _They couldn’t have been that bad,_ he thought. _Maybe we added salt instead of sugar,_ he thought, even though he had tried the ones Tubbo gave to him. _“_ I’m sure he just didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

“Well, see if I do anything for him ever again.” She spat. _No one ever cares what I do. Not Coconut2020, not for standing up to Schlatt, not even for muffins. I’ll show that little-_

“I’ll… I won’t mention it again, sorry.” The fox finally said. 

_Someday, I’ll leave the country, I hope to have you with me_

“Fundy, it’s been really good having you back.”

He looked up at his father, who continued. “I don’t… I don’t want to abandon you again. I know it hasn't been the most ideal situation and I promise one this is all over-”

“Will it ever be over?” He mumbled

“What?”

“THIS!” Fundy stood and gestured around the cavern. “Hiding! As fugitives! You- no, _we_ have always been wanted men! You could've been civil, not messed around with the wrong people, maybe then you wouldn't have been exiled, and forced to live in some dingy cave!”

“I don’t care about the cave, I care about l’manburg!”

“What about me? Do you care about me?” Fundy’s fur bristled. “Because it seems that I’ve always been second place to this stupid country of l’manburg!”

Wilbur's jaw stood agape, but he quickly shut it and turned inexpressive again. “Well you won’t have to worry about that anymore! I-” The man caught himself. “I’m not going to be president.”

Wilbur waited for any sign of surprise for his son, but Fundy stood silent. “I’m giving the position to Tommy. After the final battle, I’m officially retiring. That means I’ll have all the time to spend with you.”

After a moment, Fundy backed down. He mumbled something. 

“Hm?”

“Do you promise? No more l’manburg obsession? Just us?”

Wilbur smiled weakly. “I swear on my grave.”

_Get wrecked on becherovka, get fucked on smoke and wine_

“What happened?”

“Nothing,” Quackity mumbled. 

“Nothing my ass. This was Schlatt, wasn’t it?” Fundy had gotten him some ice for a nasty bruise on the side of his neck. The evening sun shone through the office window. “I knew it.”

“It wasn’t his fault,” the injured man defended. 

“Who’s fault is it, then? Yours?”

Quackity fell silent. 

“That bastard.”

“It’s the presidency, okay? It stresses him out.”

“My job stresses me out. So does Tubbo, that poor kid. You don’t see us going around beating people up, do you?” 

That wasn’t the whole truth. Both of them had been treating themselves terribly. Fundy still had his days where he couldn’t find motivation to leave the house, go out into the world. And Tubbo still was addicted to coffee, cigarettes (he had shown up the other day reeking of smoke), and Fundy suspected that he was still reeling from the execution. God knows he was too.

“Its… he had some new kinda vodka type yesterday. Baklava, or something. When I got to his office half the bottle was gone. He…”

Fundy waited. 

“He wanted to do stuff. I didn’t want to, and…” He stopped there. 

Fundy’s eyes widened. “That sick son of a bitch.”

“He thinks ever since the party we’re an item. We were both drunk off our asses, I didn’t-” His head went to his hands. “ _Dios mio, que nos paso._ ”

Fundy put his hand on the other’s knee. “I’m so sorry that happened to you.”

He didn’t respond. 

“Don’t worry, that bastard’s gonna get what’s coming to him.” he smirked. “I’d suggest you stay out of the way tomorrow. I’ll make sure _nobody_ lays a hand on you.”

Quackity nodded. 

_Someday, I'll have my own life, I'll leave this all behind_

Holed up in his room, Fundy laid in wait. 

_You could just not show up,_ the dark part of his brain crawled out into the darkness of the room. _They probably won’t even notice you’re gone._

He knew they’d care. 

He hadn’t isolated himself, avoided people and stayed shut in his house in a while. He was getting _better,_ as bad as it seemed now. 

The voices would probably never go away. But he could listen to them later. 

His alarm went off a few hours later. It rang to an already empty room. 

**Author's Note:**

> Cue the instrumental, and the war of November 16 happens.  
> tysm for reading this!!


End file.
